


Dream Catcher

by flailingthroughsanity



Series: recursion [1]
Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 11:44:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10099133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flailingthroughsanity/pseuds/flailingthroughsanity
Summary: “He told me to tell you ‘hello’”, Woohyun said – the wirings in his throat roughened with disuse, ravaged by time but he continued, it must have been important, it had to be – and the silent figures before him nodded. “It was all he ever wanted. Hello, hello, it’s nice to meet you.”Myungsoo and Woohyun, space and time and all of infinity.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Early birthday fic for Myungsoo <3
> 
> playlist recommendation:  
> nell - c (the entire album)

**DREAM CATCHER**  
flailingthroughsanity

 

* * *

“He told me to tell you  _ ‘hello’ _ ”, Woohyun said – the wirings in his throat roughened with disuse, ravaged by time but he continued, it must have been important, it had to be – and the silent figures before him nodded. “It was all he ever wanted. Hello, hello, it’s nice to meet you.”

 

Myungsoo and Woohyun, space and time and all of infinity.

* * *

 

 

∞

 

Myungsoo sighed, the cold dawn air exhaled in faint wispy puffs. The dim light creasing through the grey clouds cast a shadow over the debris, and he squinted, letting his gaze adapt to the brightening sky. With a gloved hand, he felt around – through the rocks and the chunks of concrete, feeling steel rods, rusty with age, and splintered glass, dulled by time.

The air was freezing, slightly more so in the late February weather but he perseveres, using both hands to push a boulder away. He ignored it as it rolled away, crunching glass under its wake. The sound pierced the silence, punctuated by his breathing.

Brushing away the crunched glass, Myungsoo exhaled – eyes raking over the nanoplaster skin, its original white color faded into a grey. He felt his way over the intact casing, noting its finely-threaded wires. He reached for his bag behind him, angling his hand and feeling for the lasercutter. Pulling it out of the bag, Myungsoo bit his lip and estimated the incision on the droid’s pectoral plating. Setting the power to its minimum, he squinted as he began hacking away at the plaster – bright blue-ish light, hot and sizzling, cutting through dense material like it was air. Faint smoke trailed, and Myungsoo inhaled – used to the smell of burning synthetic. Above, the sky continued brightening – the grey clouds trailing in rose and red as dawn began.

Turning the lasercutter off, Myungsoo leaned back, sweat dotting his temple, feeling hot despite the breeze. Putting the cutter back into his bag, Myungsoo stood and, with gloved hands, held the newly cut-flap and pulled, grimacing as he put more force into the pull – hearing crunching as the flap was forced open – revealing the droid’s inner circuitry. He kneeled on the snow-covered landing, pulling his glowstick and flicked it on. He let his eyes adjust to the green light, angling close to the droid’s open hull — it was mostly intact, dating perhaps two to three decades ago — and Myungsoo realized it was mostly due to its nanoplaster coating.

He moved closer, seeing wires hooked to its main power generator in the center of the chest, and he examined the wirings – mostly familiar – and he saw it: a capacitor, nestled under the internal fan and next to the spinal casing. He turned back to his bag, a little excited, and he took out the multimeter, attaching the hooks to both ends of the capacitor. Turning the dial up, his eyes widened and he held his breath, seeing digits on the display and the capactior’s ends glowing. With hands that only shook for a moment, he took the meter away and stuffed it back. Carefully, he unhooked the capacitor from its nest – taking note of the delicate strands, making sure not to damage it any way. With an almost silent click, he released the capacitor and it feel, safe and secure, into his waiting palm. Slowly pulling it out of the droid’s cavity, he took out the box from his bag, unclasping its hook and placed the capacitor inside, secure in its little coffin, before locking it back in.

His mission done, Myungsoo placed the box back in his bag and gathered his things. The sun was already a bit above the horizon, and he raised a hand to cover his eyes as light flooded through the darkness. The sky was brightening to its usual early morning scarlet, and he secured the straps of the bag under his arms.

Myungsoo exhaled, turning his gaze over the ancient Mapo district, seeing decrepit skyscrapers and ghosts. He makes his way down, feet pedaling towards home.

The droid’s lone silicon eye gazes after him, empty, buried under mounds of snow and rubble.

 

∞

 

When he gets home, Myungsoo carefully places the bag on the beaten-up couch, groping for the box inside. Pulling it out, he walks to the corner of the room, setting the box on the desk and unlocking it. Taking off his gloves, he feels the capacitor’s surface — a little cold, buried under freezing snow and debris — before he settles it next to the generator. Unhooking the wires from its side, he goes through the entire thing in reverse – carefully threading both its ends to the generator’s wiring. When he had finished, he stepped back and leaned over, punching the button, and the generator whirrs, ancient but alive, and the capacitor hums – ends glowing.

In spite of the feeling of accomplishment running through his veins, Myungsoo knew it would take a while before it would hit full capacity. Ignoring the figure laying atop the table by the mirror, Myungsoo scrambled for something to eat. He hadn’t had breakfast yet, and sifting through the cupboard, he pulled out ration packs. Ripping it open and heating it on the little stove, Myungsoo can’t help but frown at the smell – he knows he should be used to it, but there was no denying it wasn’t going to test good  - and when it was heated enough, he poured it on to a bowl.

He walked back out of his little nest, climbing over the bent blast door, and he settled on the ledge beside the ladder, feet dangling. With an old spoon, he scooped the dark, brown goo and dove into his meal, ignoring its stale taste, letting the warmth fill his aching stomach. The wind blew, and his hair swayed – falling into his eyes.

Myungsoo continued his meal in the silence – it was midmorning, the sun halfway up to its apex, grey clouds drifting overhead. Old Seoul lay in silence beyond, an empty husk. He kicks his feet in the air, a little unconsciously, trailing his gaze down the dried-out Han river, hundreds of feet in the air.

“It’ll probably be evening when it’s charged,” He says, although it may have been a little difficult to understand through the, well, food in his mouth. “I had to put the generator in emergency mode, it’s running on seventeen percent today.”

He swirled his spoon and scraped more of the melted rations into his mouth. “I think I saw a mostly intact car down by Mapo, I’ll try looking for it by the end of the week. Generator’s enough to run for most of the week, anyway.”

Myungsoo chuckles. “But I guess that would mean we’d cut an hour out on TV time for a few days. We’ll have to stick to one episode for now.”

He turned his gaze, eyes resting on the motionless figure atop the table. “I’ll see you tonight, Woohyun.”

 

∞

 

It’s almost near midnight that the generator stops whirring, and it beeps a single tone. Myungsoo awakens to the sound, feeling exhaustion still holding on to the edges of his consciousness and he sits up, groaning as he stretches his arms out. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep on the couch, all he intended was to lie down for a second and close his eyes, and before he knew it, he had slumbered. Carefully making his way through the dark room, save for the moonlit areas, he flicked the power on for the lamp hooked to the ceiling. Amber light flooded the room, soft and cozy, casting shadows on the dents of the steel walls.

He walked closer to the door, and leaned against the thick metal, watching the bright moon glowing in the distance. Turning away, he ambled towards the generator, finding the capacitor full. Unhooking it once more, he carried it to the table, setting it beside his tools.

For a moment, Myungsoo let himself gaze over Woohyun’s face, and noted the neoplaster casing by his cheek was smudging a little. Tenderly, he unbuttoned Woohyun’s shirt, old blue cloth opening to alabaster neoplaster, decidedly tan and warm under the amber light. He prodded the skin by the right nipple, and feeling the almost unnoticeable indent, pushed with his finger. A whir, and Woohyun’s chest cavity opened, revealing roughly-hewn circuitry, handmade over the years. Myungsoo places the capacitor inside, nestling it in between the internal fan and the spinal casing – he hooked both of its end to the wirings, and breathed in relief as the capacitor locked and glowed. Setting his tools aside, Myungsoo closes Woohyun’s hull, locking it in. He buttons the shirt back on, and combs through the synthetic black hair.

Brown eyes open, and a faint electric humming ran through the air.

Myungsoo smiles, and whispers. “Hey.”

 

∞

 

“We’re gonna have to cut down on our TV time, you know.” Myungsoo says, pulling his bag over his shoulders. It was a Wednesday, if his memory and sense of time served him well, and they were going down to Seoul, perhaps swing by the Gangnam area to scavenge for rations and power supplies.

Woohyun stares at him, silent and still. Myungsoo holds a glowstick out to him. “Here, oh, and don’t forget to bring the first aid kit, just in case.”

Myungsoo turns the power down on the lamps, and waits by the door, watching the morning sun rise again. Woohyun turns and walks to the corner where their survival kits were, and pulled on a bag. Myungsoo smiles at him as the other walks back to the door, silent.

“I missed you, you know. Took me a while to find a decent capacitor – I think that’ll hold for a few months, at most.” He smiles, ignoring the worry in his mind when this new capacitor would fail out. Woohyun stares back.

Myungsoo chuckles. “Yeah, I know you miss me, too. Come on, let’s go before it hits noon or it’s gonna be hot as fuck.”

Together, they climb down the ladder – Myungsoo holding on to the rails tight as they make their way down – crossing several hundred feet in ease, used to the errand. Woohyun follows suit, not displaying the occasional slip Myungsoo has, and he frowns – a little annoyed at Woohyun’s impeccability.

They touch ground, and Myungsoo shakes his arms to stretch out the burn. Woohyun stands beside him, gazing emptily at the empty road before them. Myungsoo follows his gaze, glancing over  the broken asphalt and the still-standing foundations of ancient skyscrapers.

“Come on, those batteries aren’t gonna find themselves.” Grabbing on to Woohyun’s hand, Myungsoo walks forward and the other follows obediently.

They rift through the streets, climbing over piles of debris and jumping from ledge to ledge. Myungsoo giggles as Woohyun steps on what looked like melted rubber and he laughs even harder as the other pauses and look down at his feet, slightly perturbed at the disorganized cadence. They come across something that may have been a pharmacy, if the faded red cross was any clue, and Myungsoo walked in.

He was right, it was a pharmacy, and he knelt, squinting in the slightly dark room, looking through the discarded medicine. “Man, most of these expired  _ decades _ ago. Here I was, hoping for at least an analgesic.”

Myungsoo turned to Woohyun, standing by the open door, his figure shadowed as he stood in light. “Do you think there’d be another pharmacy down the east block?

Woohyun remains silent.

Myungsoo hums. “Yeah, you’re right. Seoul’s big, there’s bound to be more than one pharmacy.”

He stands back up, dusting off the grit staining his jeans and walked back out, holding Woohyun’s hand.

 

∞

 

“Um…I really don’t think so.”

Myungsoo frowned, cocking his head to the side as he sipped on water. They were at the edge of the old Hongdae district, sitting on the sidewalk – considerably more intact than most of the others – and Myungsoo had started feeling hungry. Biting into the cracker-like rations, Myungsoo swallowed before turning to Woohyun, his own pack of rations open on his lap, untouched. Woohyun stared ahead, and Myungsoo turned his gaze back to the wall. There was an old ad, maybe dating a few years back, and although it had mostly faded with age – drawn over with graffiti and its own paint chipped off by the weather - he can still the smiling lady, holding a bowl of ramen, if that’s what it was, in her hands.  _ Breakfast, lunch and dinner – ramen you can’t get enough! _  written beside her. An old advert, back when people probably bustled past these streets.

Myungsoo shakes his head. “No, I don’t think it’d taste good.”

He looked at the reddish-colored,  _ was that water? _ , on the ad. “I don’t think water’s supposed to be that red, anyway. Yeah, ramen probably tastes awful.”

Woohyun is silent.

Myungsoo rolled his eyes. “I’m not saying that it  _ is _ , but it  _ could _ be. I’ve never seen water that red. Looks like blood, and blood does not taste good.”

The wind picks up through the empty street.

“Woohyun, I  _ don’t _ eat blood. I just bit my lip and it ripped open and I tasted it, and it did not taste good at all.”

Myungsoo turns to the other, crunching on his rations. “What? It happened a long time ago anyway, nothing to get you worried.”

He opened his mouth and pouted, ignoring the dried out flakes of rations in his teeth and angled it to Woohyun. The other continued staring at the wall. “See? It’s all healed up and stuff.”

Taking a big sip of the water in his flask, Myungsoo turned back to Woohyun and stared at the untouched rations on his lap. He frowned. “You are such a picky eater,” He groused, grabbing the rations and putting it back in his bag. “Okay, break time’s over. Let’s go back to business.”

He stood, securing his bag again. Woohyun stood, looking at him.

Myungsoo smiled, reaching out to grasp the other’s hand, thumbing the skin over the nanoplaster. He edged closer, and pecked the other on the cheek. Blood rushed to his face and he bit his lip, looking up at Woohyun under his fringe. “Come on, let’s get going.”

They continued on, Myungsoo swinging their linked fists, humming a lively tune. Hongdae’s steel skyscrapers towered over them, listening to his merry song, silent and decrepit in their age.

 

∞

 

Afternoon comes, whittling down the heat over the horizon. They reach the Gangnam district, and Myungsoo stops in his footsteps. Just like the rest of Old Seoul, Gangnam is ruined – remains of a nuclear fallout from a time he doesn’t remember or know. He can imagine the tall towers, reaching towards the sky – now reduced to rubble, covered in swaths of rubble and melted snow. He continues forward, water splashing beneath his boots – Woohyun follows. The street before them lies broken, asphalt and steel in craters at the intersection. Myungsoo stops by the edge, and peers over. There’s a deeper channel under and Myungsoo hums.

“I think,” turning to Woohyun, he frowns quizzically. “people travelled here.”

Woohyun stares back. Myungsoo points to the channel under the broken street.

“You see, it’s really big. It must have been used as a pathway – like an underground road.”

He turns back to the street, cocking his head. “But walking by foot would have been tiring. Maybe they used something to travel on? Like a car – but maybe bigger! Don’t you think so?”

A beat.

“Yeah, same. We’ll just dig that book back up when we get home and see if we can find something like that. Must be cool.”

He can imagine it already – something big, or long, and something people used to ride on to travel. It would be like a car, with lots of wheels to accommodate its size…and then there’d be big windows, for people to look out from. But, and Myungsoo peeks down on the crater, what was there to look at? It seemed so closed off, and underground too.

“Come on,” He flaps a hand at Woohyun. “Let’s hurry, and we’ll think about it later when we get home.”

Climbing over the pile of rubble by the side, Myungsoo jumps off and makes his way down Gangnam’s ruins, Woohyun following like a specter.

They tread past empty alleys, and peek in through the broken windows of downed buildings – Myungsoo makes a face at his own reflection, his hair falling into his eyes and down the sides of his face – longer now, and he looks at Woohyun, staring back at him through the glass. He makes a funny expression and laughs to himself, and links his hand with Woohyun’s. The other is taciturn, carrying the backpack without complaint, staring listlessly forward unless called by Myungsoo.

True to form, they do come across another pharmacy and when Myungsoo cracks open cabinet doors, boxes of medicine fall to the ground. He opens a few of them, bringing the tablets close to smell – some of them smell bad, and some have green stuff growing on them. He frowns, annoyed at finding nothing again, and he sweeps the boxes away. His eyes land on bandages, packed, at the back and takes small victories for what they are, putting them all in Woohyun’s bag.

They are about to leave, when Myungsoo catches sight of a discarded pile in the corner and when he steps closer, he sees something – a book, it may have been one – and when he pulls it out, he smiles to himself.

“It really is a book!” Myungsoo exclaims, wiping the cover on his jeans. He squints, making out the words. “As-tro-no-my? Astro-nomy? Astronomy?”

He directs his next question to Woohyun. “What’s astronomy?”

He turns back to the book. “Well, I’m taking it back home with me.”

Myungsoo smiles at Woohyun. “Alright, I’m done. Let’s go home?”

He holds Woohyun’s hand again, walking out of the broken building.

“I know, I know. Don’t worry – we’ll get back in time for  _ Pillow Talk _ .”

 

∞

 

Night falls, and Myungsoo turns the lamp on. Amber light floods the room, and he hurries on to close the door, shutting out the sudden chilly breeze. The blast door is heavy, but he’s used to it – have been for years – and he slides it close with ease. Woohyun is sitting on the beaten-up couch – and Myungsoo admits, it’s not really a couch, but scraps of foam he’s managed to gather and form into a semblance of something they could sit on – and he is facing the television. Myungsoo grabs the book they found in Gangnam and settles himself beside Woohyun, bringing his feet up and curling them under himself. He leans into Woohyun.

“Generator’s still running on low, so we’re gonna have to cut down movie time to one film for the next few days.” He says, guiltily and regrettably. Woohyun is unresponsive.

“I’m sorry; I wasn’t able to look for more batteries. I had to put your capacitor on top priority, you know.”

Myungsoo flushes red, and angles his face away from Woohyun. “What? I had to. You’re always my top priority.”

He turns back to Woohyun, settling the book in between them. He grabs one of Woohyun’s hands. “You remember, right? The promise we made back then? Even I don’t remember everything, but I remember that. I remember that promise, most of all.”

He smiles up at Woohyun, eyes trailing down the side of the other’s face. “I was eight. I think I was, anyway. I don’t remember anything before that. I just woke up to this, and I was in the middle of Old Seoul. I remember it as clear as day.”

And he does remember it — as intense and as vivid as the evening cold: the dark, tumultuous grey clouds, blanketing across the skies, sweeping; rain fell in a slight drizzle, and Myungsoo remembers looking up, clad in only a lone hospital gown, hair sticking to his skin as rain beat him down. He remembered calling for someone, and he can still remember the name – the word he used – “mother”, but he had no idea who was mother, or what mother was. All he knew then was that “mother” was safe, “mother” was warm, “mother” was home. He remembers calling, screaming, and his voice carrying over the silence, skimming above bent steel foundations, whispering past broken glass and dancing across the ruined streets.

He rests his head down on Woohyun’s shoulder. “Do you remember? That’s when we first met.”

And as his eight-year old voice grew hoarse from crying out for an absent “mother”, he remembers someone walking up to him – it wasn’t “mother”, it was someone else. But this other person, he called himself Woohyun, and he was nice. He asked if he was alright, he asked if he was alone, and he asked if he was scared.

“Yes, I am.” Myungsoo whispers the words. “I said the same exact thing. And then you held my hand, and then I wasn’t scared anymore.”

Woohyun is still.

“And then you promised me – that I’d never be alone again.”

 

∞

 

Myungsoo turns the television on, and he flicks through the menu. He remembers, years ago, how foreign it was to use such a thing – and he remembers laughing at having no idea what to do with it, Woohyun informing of its usage and all that information flying over Myungsoo’s head.

He starts the movie, and he settles back on the couch. He wants to go through the Astronomy book but his eyes feel heavy, exhausted after a long day of walking through Old Seoul, and he stretches out on the couch, resting his head on Woohyun’s lap. The other is still, eyes forward, taking in the movie playing. Myungsoo breathes, inhaling the scent of dirt, dust and grease and he reaches behind him for Woohyun’s hand. He lays it against his side, lacing their fingers together.

His eyelids droop, and it’s difficult to keep them open anymore. He sees Woohyun staring straight at the television, watching Brad and Jan kiss, and he falls asleep.

 

∞

 

“Yeah, I think that’s better.”

Myungsoo angles his head sideways, letting Woohyun’s fingers comb through his hair. It’s longer now, falling past his chin. He would have cut it, but he sort of likes the way it looks on him.

Woohyun is sitting behind him, curling his fingers through Myungsoo’s tresses. He smiles at the feeling of the other’s soft touch, closing his eyes at the buzz of pleasure crawling down his scalp.

When Woohyun is pulling his hair back, Myungsoo opens his eyes. He looks at the mirror, at his own face, noting how bare he looked with his hair pulled back, unable to cover his eyes. He takes in his dark eyes, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lip – the faint tan, swathes of pale gold across alabaster – and feels Woohyun tie his hair with a band.

He turns back to the other, and thanks him.

 

∞

 

Myungsoo half-screams, half-laughs, as he tries to keep his balance, feeling the flap under him threatening to throw him sideways down the Han river’s rocky bed. The breeze is strong, his scarf flapping madly, but his hair is locked in a bun, away from his eyes and he squints as dust comes close. He holds his arms sideways, steadying him, and he bends a little, mouth open and adrenaline running in his veins as he skates down the slope. It begins to descend down flat, and Myungsoo relaxes his muscles a bit as the flap he’s skating on skids slowly to a stop, pebbles and rock crumbling underfoot.

He jumps off it, and still feeling like he might fall sideways, turns to Woohyun at the top of the bank, exhilarated.

“That was awesome! You should try it!”

Woohyun doesn’t, but he slowly makes his way down on foot – back straight and unbending, cadence unbroken and Myungsoo stays where he is, letting his breathing get back to normal, watching Woohyun come to him. The last dregs of his earlier high fades away, and he reaches a hand up to wipe the sweat dotting his forehead.

Woohyun stands before him, looking at him – waiting – and Myungsoo smiles.

“It’s not gonna hurt you, you know. I know you’re scared of heights.” Myungsoo chuckles to himself at Woohyun’s expressionless face. “but it’s not that bad, once you get used to it.”

He stands next to the other. “It’s okay, though. I can wait until you’re ready to do it with me. That’d be nice, yeah? We can have a contest, first one to win can have TV rights or something – we can think of something. Or you can think of something, and I can practice some more. Pretty sure when you get the hang of it, you’ll beat me.”

Myungsoo chuckles again, walking around the riverbed. “Can you believe this used to be filled with so much water?”

Woohyun turns north, to the mouth of the river cutting through Old Seoul. Myungsoo nods, standing beside him. “Yeah, it is! Or, was. It would be a lot of water, a lot enough to see from a distance. Do you think it came from the rain? Or do you think it came from somewhere else?”

He looks behind him, at the other end of the river, the dirt-trail treading to the distance – too far for him to see. “We’ve never really seen where the river ends. What do you think is at the end of it?”

Woohyun follows his gaze.

“Do you think it’d stop at Old Seoul’s ends? Or do you think it goes on forever? Or,” and Myungsoo turns back to Woohyun. “what if there’s something awesome at the end? What if there are magic treasures or something, like that  _ Lord of the Rings _ movie back at home?”

And what if it ran forever? Myungsoo wondered, eyeing the horizon. What if the Han river was endless – cutting across Old Seoul, and maybe continuing onwards, down paths he’s never been – paths he’s never had the courage to go take – and what if on the way, he’d see things he could have never imagined? Or maybe, it will end. Maybe it has an end, and Myungsoo would like to see that, too. Maybe, and he thinks, it doesn’t really matter what’s at the end and he just wants to know if there even is one at all.

He turns to see Woohyun looking eastward, and he follows the other’s gaze, and sees home.

 

∞

 

They walk back up the trail, the afternoon sun painting the skies in palettes of fiery orange and scarlet – it’s like everything’s on fire, to Myungsoo that is, when the sun is about to set. He turns his gaze to the way the shadows grow longer and bigger, casting rubble and ruined cities in growing darkness.

Woohyun walks ahead, and Myungsoo pauses in his step – looking up.

He watches Woohyun’s back, shadowed, outlined in gold and crimson by the dying day’s light, watches the wind caress his hair, swaying, and Myungsoo smiles and makes his way home, too, climbing up the steps to their little nest.

He remembers Woohyun calling it an “aeroplane” and that it must have crashed in low altitude, keeping it somewhat intact, and Myungsoo takes a moment to peek at their home’s one remaining wing – huh, he has no idea what an aeroplane is but it must have been something cool.

 

∞

 

“Yes, the batteries worked!” Myungsoo exclaims, and he hurries over to Woohyun.

The other allows himself to be pulled, and Myungsoo angles the device – ‘camera’, Woohyun called it once, a long time ago – and points it at themselves.

“Okay, let’s try it out. You said to press this button, right? And also to make sure it’s pointing at someone, right?”

Woohyun is silent, letting the other fuss with the camera.

“I still can’t believe the batteries worked.” Myungsoo whispers to himself, setting the camera before them. “Okay, so let’s be ready.”

He holds the device out, and makes sure to have it pointed at them. He’s not really sure what it does, but he remembers Woohyun telling him that people used to do it a lot, in small tiny box-like things. He’s very curious about what it does, and Myungsoo’s always had a nose for curiousity.

“Alright, I’m gonna press it now.”

And he presses the button, and his eyes widen when there’s a flash of light and he drops the camera in shock. “What was that?!”

Woohyun, beside him, is still as ever, looking at the camera on the ground. Myungsoo stares at it, a little wary and still shocked at the flash.

There’s a whirring sound and then something white comes out of the side, square-like, and it looks like paper to him. He treads closer and pulls it out from the camera, and with amazement, watches its black underside slowly gain colour until he sees his own face and Woohyun’s staring back at him, his own wide eyes mirroring one another.

He walks to Woohyun, still looking at the thing in his hand, and he hands it to the other. Woohyun takes it from him, and looks down at it.

“That’s really cool,” Myungsoo says – smiling at their faces in the little thing. Woohyun continues to look at it.

 

∞

 

“I really can’t imagine it.” Myungsoo says, swallowing down the melted rations. They’re on the ‘rooftop’, on the somewhat horizontal landing of the aeroplane’s upper body. Above, the moon shines brightly – blessing ample light on Old Seoul, and Woohyun is silver under the light. Myungsoo peeks at him and turns back to the ruined city below. It looks scary at night, and the more Myungsoo stares, the more it frightens him. It looks big and dark, somewhere he’d get lost and he doesn’t like the idea.

“The books keep saying that people lived in cities, some of them even had millions! What’s a millions?”

He crunches on a cracker. “Wow, that’s a lot. Imagine if there were that many people! Wouldn’t that make everything crowded? Like – where would they live, and would they all fit in there?”

He turns back to the ruins. “And, if there were that many people – what would they do? Would all of them have jobs or would some of them do different things? What jobs do they even do?”

Myungsoo pulls the blanket closer around him and Woohyun, snuggling into the other’s side. “I think some of them would probably work to help others, right? I mean, there has to be some of them who want that kind of job. There would also be some that could lead? If there were that many people, someone has to be the leader! Or they could all help each other – yeah, that would be nice, too. And, and, some of them would probably make things – like those buildings and that hole in the  ground we saw, I think that’s what you called it, and they could make them super tall – tall enough to reach the moon or make holes for people to walk under and get to places. That would be nice.”

He tries to imagine it – millions of people – and he imagines a  _ lot _ and he imagines them building skyscrapers and tunnels, steel and stone reaching the heavens, and helping other people, and he imagines some leading others – for others to look up to – or they could all just help each other, the way he and Woohyun help each other, and although it’s difficult, and it sort of hurts his head to imagine a lot of things at one given time, he likes what it means. No one would be hurt. No one would be lost. No one would be lonely.

“And maybe,” He looks up now, at the vast blanket of night, bright lights too many for him to count. “they could build aeroplanes and go there, and who knows what they might find? Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

 

∞

 

“No, no, no, not like that, silly.”

Myungsoo laughs again, angling his body to the side and moving his foot so Woohyun doesn’t step on it. With his leg, he moves Woohyun’s foot sideways, in the right direction. Satisfied, he place his hand back on Woohyun’s shoulder and uses the other to lace his fingers with Woohyun’s and extended it sideways.

“Okay, so when I move my foot here,” and he demonstrates for Woohyun to follow. “you follow with your foot, okay?”

He makes a curving motion with his foot, and Woohyun stares, looking into his eyes.

Myungsoo smiles. “You’ll get the hang of it, trust me. So, let’s try it again.”

They do the step again, and Woohyun follows his lead, and he doesn’t slip again and Myungsoo smiles wide. “Okay, that was good. Now, after that step, we just go back to the start and do it again. It’s easy, right? I told you it’d be easy.”

“Okay, here we go. One, two, three, four…”

And Myungsoo leads again, stepping back in a circle, from tip toe to flat to tip toe once more, and Woohyun follows, and this time he doesn’t end up stepping on Myungsoo’s foot. They continue on, Myungsoo breathing out his counts, and he smiles when they come full circle and they did it perfectly.

“See? I told you, you’d get the hang of it. Ready for the real thing?”

Woohyun’s eyes – ochre in the amber light – never leave his and Myungsoo nods, running to the television. He presses the play button and he runs back to Woohyun, still in the same spot, and when the song begins, he smiles.

“Just like how we practiced.” He says, and he begins anew.

They start slow, following the beat of the song, and Myungsoo’s smile widens as Woohyun follows effortlessly. Artificial amber light paints shadows across Woohyun’s face, and Myungsoo can’t help the honey-like warmth running through him as they continue around the room. He moves closer, and slowly, as they turn and turn, lays his head on Woohyun’s shoulder, left hand still aloft, fingers laced. Their pace doesn’t stop, but it does slow down until they’re just slowly swaying in place.

Myungsoo closes his eyes and tucks his nose against Woohyun’s neck, softly singing along to the man singing in the television.

Woohyun’s hand is firm on his waist and he presses a faint kiss on the other’s neck.

“Fooled around and fell in love,” he hums, he sings. “I fooled around and fell in love.”

 

∞

 

He’s awake, gazing at the soft moonlight cutting in through the circular windows. Myungsoo moves in bed, curling his leg against Woohyun’s and angling his head, finding purchase on the other’s unmoving chest. He reaches a hand up, tracing the bare skin of Woohyun’s chest, fingers skimming over their planes. Woohyun is looking straight up at the ceiling, still as ever.

The light lends a softness to Woohyun’s features – less rough, less sharp and Myungsoo traces his chin, to the slope of his cheek, to the edge of his nose and even up to the fine hairs of his eyebrows.

“I’m really happy I have you back.” He says, voice soft and almost silent.

Myungsoo is, he really is, happy to have Woohyun back. He doesn’t remember everything, but what he can – what’s important – is filled with Woohyun, in one way or other: in Woohyun’s presence, the outline of his back tinged in scarlet and gold; his ochre eyes staring forward; the wind caressing his hair into a little dance; fingers combing through his hair, pulling them back in a bun; moonlight and the nebulae above, warm under a blanket, atop an aeroplane; grey-coloured skies and rain, and crying out for safety.

“Even,” and Myungsoo bites his lip, and for the first time in a long while, he doesn’t sound as upbeat. “even if you no longer say anything, even if you can’t speak anymore, I’m still happy to have you back.”

He presses his cheek back to Woohyun’s chest, and feels his eye sting, holding tight to the other’s hand. “It’s wonderful to have you back.”

 

∞

 

The Astronomy book lies to the side, discarded, and Myungsoo stares up at the stars. They, the people from before – the people long gone – the people of Old Seoul and Old Earth, they called it stars. They called it stars, and lights, named it Andromeda and Cassiopeia, called the morning star Venus, and the red dot in the distance Jupiter.

He points a hand to the bright dot, northward, and turns to Woohyun. “They called that Polaris. They called it the North star. They said people – sailors – would use it to find their way home at sea. That’s amazing, isn’t it? You told me about that, the sea, how it’s really big and it seems endless and it’s filled with water – bigger than the Han river – bigger than anything I’ve ever seen and people at sea can look for that North star to find their way home.”

He turns back to the stars, twinkling and bright, a blanket of lights, surrounding the moon. “There were people, out there, so far from us, from beyond Old Seoul. They would look up at the same stars, and the same sky and they’d see Polaris and use it to find their way home. Isn’t that nice, Woohyun? That in this really big place, we’re all under the same sky? That we’re not that different after all?”

He closes his eyes and imagines. “And what about Venus? And Jupiter? Or on Mars? What if other people lived there too? What if there are others, like us, in those places, too? What if they thought they were alone – alone in this big universe – like us, but then they’d travel and they’d come here and they’d realize ‘Oh, we’re not alone.’”

Myungsoo smiles. “I would like that. It’s nice not to be alone, and we’d meet them and they’d meet us and we’d all talk and be friends. They would know about how we live, and we could take them to Gangnam or we can go skating on the Han river. We can even walk the river’s length, and see where it ends – or if it ends! They’d help us, they’d be nice like that, and we’d all go on a treasure hunt like Frodo Baggins and we’d become friends along the way.

Maybe they’d sleep with us here, in this aeroplane. Or, maybe, we could see their aeroplane! Maybe we could see how they travel!”

He turns back to Woohyun, and finds the other already staring back at him. “We could go out there, Woohyun. We could go to Polaris or to Ursa Major or to Andromeda. We could travel and fly there and see other people.”

In a softer voice, he continues. “We wouldn’t have to be alone anymore. We could say ‘hello, it’s nice to meet you’ and we could hear it back.”

And wouldn’t that be nice? Myungsoo thinks it would be, and he holds on tight to Woohyun — he can see it, him and Woohyun in a space ship – like a car or something, and they would see the moon up close or they could and land on Polaris and find out why people look to her for direction, and he closes his eyes - dreaming of stars and sailors on moons and ancient astronauts coursing through outer space.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

∞

A creaking noise, like steel grinding against steel, breaks the silence and Woohyun’s system awakens. An internal diagnostic of his capacitor notifies him that his generator is operating on less than one percent energy, almost empty from hibernation. The motherboard in his system – responsible for giving him thought – doesn’t find it alarming.

Light floods into the room, and the door falls to the ground. He wants to move, to stand, but the mechanisms running his body isn’t obeying his command prompts. He deduces that time and age had worn most of his circuitry down.

Steps come into the room, and he looks up.

An unidentified voice speaks, and Woohyun records a sample to locate a filial language. He finds none. The user is speaking in a language not in his database.

Another voice, speaking in the same language, pipes up and light is pointed at him. Woohyun doesn’t blink – his optics adjusts to the intensity – and he makes out the outlines of two humanoid figures.

The first voice prods again, still in the same unrecognized language.

An older command prompt, ingrained in his system, and his internal recordings sift through his memory, comes up and he obeys.

  
“He-llo. Hell-o.” Woohyun speaks, and he pauses, letting his voice box adjust from disuse. He speaks out again. “Hell-o. Hell-o. It—is—nice to meet—you.”

The two figures pause, and Woohyun repeats. “Hell-o. Hell-o. It is nice to meet you.”

The second voice comes up, this time softer, and Woohyun recognizes him addressing the other. A beat of silence pass before the voice comes in again – it’s the first one, and Woohyun recognizes the language now.

“What is your name?” The first speaker asked.

“U-1.” Woohyun answered, then his internal memory recalibrates. “My master called me Woohyun.”

“Your master?” Woohyun nods. The command prompt, the one responsible for making him speak, recalibrates to an older one and Woohyun’s internal recorder plays. His master’s voice comes alive.

_ “We wouldn’t have to be alone anymore. We could say ‘hello, it’s nice to meet you’ and we could hear it back.” _

“Hell-o. Hell-o. It is nice to meet you.” Woohyun repeats, Myungsoo’s voice cycling over and over.

“He told me to tell you  _ ‘hello’ _ ”, Woohyun said – the wirings in his throat roughened with disuse, ravaged by time but he continued, it must have been important, it had to be – and the silent figures before him nodded. “It was all he ever wanted. Hello, hello, it’s nice to meet you.”

“ _ Wouldn’t that be nice, Woohyun?” _

His security prompts ring up, and Woohyun’s entire system starts fluctuating, his generator slowly losing power. His receptors begin malfunctioning, recording only snippets.

“—amazing—How-on—droid—thousand years old!—“

_ “—you miss—too. Come on, let’s go before —noon —be hot —” _

“Sung-kyu—survive—extinction—relic—“

“Hell-o. Hell-o.” Woohyun continues, running on his master’s last command. “It—nice—meet—you.”

_ “Fooled around—love—round—in love.” _

He repeats the words, his voice box fluctuating, from static to bass, and he runs a command and his chassis opens. The two humanoid figures are silent, staring at him, lights still in his face, and with one mobile hand, reaches for the inside of his hull.

_ “—And —held my hand—wasn’t scared —more.” _

His optics record his own limb, processes that his nanoplaster casing has withered and his rusty skeletal wiring remains, and he pulls out the photo.

_ “—promised me —never —alone again—“ _

He raises it to the two others, the circuitry in his hand shortening out, pausing halfway.

It’s still intact – the white border faded to brown, and the color slightly gone, but his optics record Myungsoo’s wide-eyed gaze and his own casing looking back.

_ “What—people lived there too? What if—are others—in—places, too?” _

“Hell-o. Hell-o. It is nice to meet you.”

_ “What if they thought they were alone – alone in this big universe – like us, but then they’d travel and they’d come here and they’d realize ‘Oh, we’re not alone.’” _

A figure steps into the light, and Woohyun records the light-blue color of his skin, and the three-digit limb – hand, his motherboard supplies – and the figure takes hold of the photo.

It’s the first speaker, Sung-kyu, that takes the photo.

“Hello. It is nice to meet you, too, Woohyun.” Woohyun records the words, and the humanoid’s bright green eyes, pupil-less and shining in the dark.

_ “I would like that. It’s nice not to be alone, and we’d meet them and they’d meet us and we’d all talk and be friends.” _

His generator shortens out, and Woohyun’s voice box goes haywire. Myungsoo’s voice turns from pleasant bass to static to silence.

His mission done, Woohyun finally deactivates.

Termination prompt.

∞

“We wouldn’t have to be alone anymore. Wouldn’t that be nice?”


End file.
